67: Chapter 67 Silver Changes Hands, Tycoons Bow Down

Saffron City, 50th floor of the Silph Co. Building, board meeting room.

Heavy rain crawled down the bulletproof glass; the city's neon lights were dragged by the rain into streaks of colorful wounds.

On both sides of the long table, over a dozen directors wore expensive suits, with red wine and cigars at their elbows, but their faces were uglier than the sky outside.

Just a moment ago, the building lost power for three seconds.

Three seconds is very short.

But for a behemoth like Silph Co., three seconds is enough to scare people to death.

The elevators stalled, the vaults briefly lost connection, the outer security teams went offline simultaneously, and all screens displayed red static.

What was worse, the logistics ports in Saffron City were sealed off by Sabrina's people, and the stock market plummeted.

"Everyone shut up."

The old man sitting at the head of the table knocked on the tabletop.

He had a full head of white hair, his eyes were sinister, and the fountain pen in his hand was squeezed until it made a faint sound.

The Silph Co. Chairman.

An old tycoon who controlled Poké Ball manufacturing, pharmaceutical supplies, and vast factories.

"I have already contacted the Indigo Plateau. Lance will send people. The money we pay them every year is enough to support three fleets. Do they dare watch Silph Co. fall?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the boardroom doors exploded.

The heavy door panels, along with the door frame, flew in, smashing into the carpet and the crystal chandelier.

Amidst the dust, Lynn walked into the boardroom, leaning on a silver cane.

His black trench coat was soaked by the rain, and his mechanical left leg stepped over the shattered wood; every step made people's chests tighten.

Behind him, Sabrina carried a black briefcase, her red dress trailing on the floor, her face pale, and her eyes calm.

A director caught sight of Sabrina's face, and his wine glass slipped from his hand, shattering into pieces.

"Sabrina..."

This name made the entire long table go silent.

Lynn pulled out the vice-chairman's chair and sat down, leaning his cane against the table.

"Everyone, I've come to discuss an acquisition."

"Acquisition?" A young director slammed the table and stood up. "You barge in with a psychic, and you call this an acquisition? Get out! I'm calling the Special Investigations Unit right now—"

Lynn tilted his head.

"Too noisy."

Sabrina raised a finger.

The young director's voice stuck in his throat, his limbs were pulled up by invisible threads, his knees bent backward, his back arched into an ugly kneeling posture, and he crashed heavily to the ground.

His eyes darted around, sweat streamed down his forehead, and his throat could only produce wheezing sounds.

A collective gasp filled the boardroom.

Several directors reached for their phones, but the screens were completely black.

After Porygon-Z tapped into the building's circuits, all phones, alarms, and emergency buttons were locked.

Lynn pushed a stack of documents in front of the Silph Co. Chairman.

"Sign."

The old man opened the files, and after reading the first page, the color drained completely from his face.

The content of the documents was simple.

Silph Co. was to list Cinnabar Island as its highest priority supply target; all factories, ore, pharmaceuticals, and transport ships were to be supplied to Lynn first; shipments to the League frontlines were to be stopped; thirty percent of the company's security, logistics, and experimental departments were to be handed over to Lynn's people; the Chairman would retain the title, but the actual signing authority was to be surrendered.

"Robbery."

The old man looked up, his teeth chattering.

"This is robbery. Silph Co.'s century-old foundation will absolutely not end up in your hands."

He threw the documents onto the table.

"I'd rather die."

Lynn stood up, walked behind the old man, and pressed his gloved hand onto his shoulder.

"Mr. Silph, you've misunderstood one thing."

The old man's shoulders stiffened.

"I need your name, I need your seal, and I need your fleet's passage. Your opinions are of little use to this transaction."

Lynn looked at Sabrina.

"Make his hands obedient."

Sabrina stepped forward, her fingertips touching the back of the old man's head.

The old man's pupils contracted, then dilated. The anger on his face was drained away bit by bit, and the corners of his mouth curled up stiffly, revealing a smile that made one's scalp tingle.

He bent down, picked up the scattered documents one by one, flattened them, and picked up a pen.

The fountain pen scratched across the paper, its tip piercing through the page several times.

The name Silph Co. was written down.

The private seal was stamped.

The red mark was vivid.

The old man turned his head and smiled at the other directors.

"Gentlemen, it's your turn."

The directors who had just been shouting about calling the police were now scrambling to push forward.

"I'll sign!"

"I support Mr. Lynn!"

"I'm in charge of factory scheduling, I know it well!"

One name after another fell onto the paper.

Half an hour later, every news screen in Saffron City lit up.

The Silph Co. Chairman sat before the camera, his smile proper, his voice steady.

"Silph Co. will enter into a comprehensive partnership with the new company under Mr. Lynn's name to jointly develop a new generation of Poké Balls, pharmaceuticals, and heavy industrial equipment."

Off-camera, the young director was still kneeling on the carpet, his eyes bloodshot.

Off-camera, the Chairman's wrist was being gently held by Sabrina.

In the night rain, heavy trucks emblazoned with the golden 'S' logo drove out of the underground tunnel. The cargo holds were filled with food, pharmaceuticals, ore, dark ball prototypes, marine fuel, and power generation components urgently needed by Cinnabar Island.

Lynn stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the headlights form a long line.

"The first shipment goes to Cinnabar Island."

Porygon-Z's voice came from the speaker on the table.

"Route changed. The blockade fleet will see the Silph Co. logo."

"Let them see it."

Lynn picked up the red wine the Chairman had treasured and gave it a gentle swirl.

"Cannon muzzles are useful against the poor, but when pointed at money bags, they will first ask those above if they dare to pay for the damages."

Sabrina sat in the Chairman's chair, toying with the private seal in her hand.

Lynn turned and walked toward the private elevator.

"Has the underground vault been opened?"

"It has been opened."

"Is that piece of amber still there?"

"It is still there."

The elevator doors slowly closed.

That night, Silph Co. changed owners.

The largest conglomerate in Saffron City became the fattest cash cow in Lynn's hands.

As the elevator descended, the signing in the boardroom continued.

Several directors collapsed in their chairs, their wrists shaking so much they couldn't hold their pens steady. Sabrina only needed to glance at them, and they immediately wrote their names more neatly than usual.

The young director knelt on the floor, his face pressed against the carpet, his tears and saliva soaking the expensive wool. He finally understood that at this kind of table, courage, like stocks, could plummet into worthless paper.

When the Silph Co. Chairman was helped in front of the camera, he still wore that proper smile. The makeup artist touched up his powder, her hand shaking so much that the powder puff fell to the floor.

"Reshoot." Porygon-Z reminded through the speaker.

The Chairman immediately lifted his head again, smiling more naturally.

"Silph Co. will embark on a brand new direction."

After this was broadcast, the trading hall in Saffron City was in an uproar. Brokers screamed their lungs out on phones, and several inspectors sent by the League rushed into the hall, but as soon as they showed their credentials, they were blocked at the door by people from Silph Co.'s legal department.

The head of the legal department wiped away cold sweat and slapped the newly stamped authorization document in front of the inspectors.

"The board passed this unanimously, and the paperwork is complete. If you gentlemen want to investigate, you can apply to the court first."

The inspectors were green with rage but could only watch as items on the shipping manifest were renamed one by one.

In the underground garage, forklifts roared.

Boxes sealed for years were pried open, revealing rows of dark ball prototypes. The cold storage doors of the pharmaceutical warehouse opened, and rows of blue medicine bottles were packed into shockproof boxes. The lead seals of the ore storage were smashed, and rare metals rolled along the conveyor belt into the trucks.

Lynn didn't look at the faces of those directors.

He was looking at the list.

For every extra ship, Cinnabar Island got another breath of life.

For every extra crate of medicine, fewer people would die in the infirmary.

For every extra batch of raw materials, Blaine could open one more production line.

This building used to make money by draining Kanto dry.

Starting tonight, it would build guns, ships, and granaries for Lynn.

The elevator stopped before the eightieth underground floor, and Lynn turned to look at Sabrina.

"The people upstairs, keep them alive."

Sabrina nodded gently.

"They will continue to sign."

"Good. Keeping them alive is more useful than killing them all."

The elevator doors closed, and the red light descended.

In the boardroom, the directors were still competing to show their loyalty. Some proactively handed over overseas accounts, some wrote down secret League purchase prices on sticky notes, and others tearfully confessed the locations of their private mercenary warehouses hidden in the suburbs.

Outside Saffron City, the first convoy had already entered the underground high-speed tunnel.

Rain washed over the road, and the headlights formed a long line.

On this night when Silph Co. changed hands, there was very little gunfire.

But louder than guns was the sound of the chaebol bowing their heads and stamping their seals.

When news of this building takeover reached the Indigo Plateau, the tea on the table was still hot.

Several council members watched the Silph Co. press conference, none of them speaking first.

The official in charge of industrial and commercial review called the Chairman's office; the operator's tone was cloyingly sweet, repeating only one sentence: The Chairman is in good health, and the cooperation is entirely voluntary.

They, of course, knew that there was a knife hidden behind those words.

But the documents were real, the seals were real, and the board meeting voting records were also real.

Lynn spared the banks and factories, letting this behemoth simply change the person holding the leash. Outsiders still saw the Silph Co. sign, the ledgers turned as usual, and the factories smoked as usual.

This was the most ruthless part.

Even if the League wanted to save it, they couldn't find a pretext to act immediately.